


Hell and Heaven Mean Nothing Compared to Spite

by monsterenergydrink (Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek)



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Coming back to life, Doomsday, Dream Smp, Gen, Hell, Jack Manifold-centric, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manifold Land, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), he dies but he gets better, kind of, l'manberg, l'manburg, more like alluded to, no beta we die like wilbur soot, or something like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek/pseuds/monsterenergydrink
Summary: Jack Manifold loses his last life in a fight he knew he couldn't win, ever present anger boiling over at the worst possible time.He doesn't die.
Relationships: None
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Hell and Heaven Mean Nothing Compared to Spite

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this work is an interpretation of the character Jack Manifold portrays on the Dream SMP, not the actual streamer, and if at any point he expresses discomfort with this kind of work it's getting taken down.

Jack Manifold is invited to a server that’s already in one war. He joins after the final battle (They call it the Dream SMP vs L’manburg war.) and doesn’t think about the possibility that it will happen again. He leaves for two months, does the things he needs to do, and comes back to another war, to L’manburg- Manburg- abandoned and empty, him the only citizen. The abandonment causes pain and resentment to boil over in his chest, and he turns it into anger instead. He looks at it all, and he calls his house Manifold Land and ignores the war on his doorstep until he can’t anymore. He fights in the battle, because what else could he do? (Sit it out, a treacherous voice in his head whispers. Let them fight their own battles) 

Manifold Land is stolen from him, taken back into L’manburg, but then they don’t even consider him a citizen. (Pros, no taxes. Cons, no acknowledgement). What is the point of not being his own land when they forget he is even there? He puts a picture of JSchlatt in his house, originally says “Be Better” but realizes it’s getting him nowhere. Instead, he puts a sign that says “Be Worse” next to it and vows to do just that. Some of the anger is spite now, a refusal to give up or give in. 

No matter what the others tell him, he says he is no longer a part of L’manburg. At least if he is a one-man nation there is no populace to overlook him. Of the remaining first citizens- Wilbur dead, Eret a puppet king- he is the only one not a member of the government. (He isn’t sure he wants a role there, but the thought would have been nice.) Even Niki had been given one, despite leaving it for Dry Waters and the promise of not being overlooked anymore. 

There is another war. There is always another war. He fights. (Why does he fight?) Technoblade makes a joke that crosses too many lines for him to ignore, and he challenges him to fight one on one, anger overflowing in the heat of battle. It’s stupid, he’s stupid, he’s on his last life and he’s going to die. (Would that be so bad?) For a half a second it’s going well, and then Technoblade uses his trident to soar into the air above him, and he knows he’s about to die. He squares his shoulders and meets it head on, anger thrumming under his skin even as the sword goes through him like he’s nothing. (He might as well be, to everyone else on the battle field.) 

He spawns back in. He is still bloody, still bleeding, but he respawns. This isn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to come back, and a respawn shouldn’t have left him still injured and messy. He stumbles to his front door anyway, the sound of the Withers and Dream’s explosions reaching him before he even gets out of bed. His stuff. He should get his stuff. (Why? To continue fighting for a country that doesn’t fight for him? To protect his house, which hasn’t been touched at all?) He is walking back, tripping over his own feet and leaving a trail of blood behind him, when everything goes fuzzy and he falls through the prime path. He doesn’t know how long he falls, but everything hurts when he lands, miraculously still on his feet. Light is coming from somewhere. (Part of him knows that doesn’t make sense, knows he should be dead from the fall now if nothing else) 

Looking around reveals two people he can’t quite make out in the dim lighting. He thinks he sees horns on one. He doesn’t think too deeply about who has horns on this server. Not when he’s supposed to be dead. Not when he thinks he is dead, now. Anger burns under his skin, and he knows he needs to go back. 

There is a terrible heat to this place he is in now, with no defined lines and nothing he can truly make out. Nothing makes noise except for his labored breathing, except for his feet against the ground, and neither of the figures says anything, so he starts walking. Nothing sticks out to guide him, but he is still angry, and maybe if he walks far enough, he will find his way out of whatever this place is. He does not know how long he walks. There is never any change to his surroundings, and the only reason he knows he isn’t walking in place is the people he can’t really see fading into the distance. 

Time passes, probably. It must, because eventually he comes up on a wall. No, a cliff face. It’s too smooth to be manmade. He is sore all over, and the wound that killed him earlier (Had it only been earlier today?) is bleeding sluggishly. Jack can feel it in the way his shirt and suit jacket stick to him, and the way the scent of his own blood has only gotten stronger and stronger. Tilting his head back and staring up doesn’t reveal an end to the cliff. Feeling angry again, at this dead end, he puts his hands to the sheer wall and climbs. It is slow, and he thinks he will fall every few seconds, but bit by excruciating bit he moves up the rock. His arms shake, and he can’t feel one of his legs, but he keeps going, glaring at the stone inches from his face. This won’t stop Jack Manifold. Nothing stops Jack Manifold. Not his so-called friends using him only to fight in wars he isn’t a part of, not a stupid pig who hates the government, and not this fucking cliff. He keeps climbing. 

Hours, days, weeks later he reaches the top. There is more light here, and he can see the way his hands are shredded bloody when he stands at the edge of the cliff. He starts walking again, stumbling and falling to his knees almost immediately. He gets back up. He still has more to do. Spite and the inability to give up carry him all the way to a door. He stands there. (What happens when he opens it, his self-preservation asks.) Making a face at the thought, he opens the door and reveals a void. Stepping through it is less than a moment's thought. Anything is better than this constant pain and heat. 

Jack Manifold wakes up in his own bed again, distant explosions still shaking his house, and “Three Lives Left” flashing against his closed eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> Consider for a moment, the fact that c!Jack is 18 and has been abandoned by everyone who was supposed to be his friend. Thanks for reading.


End file.
